Let's Go
by Emchan
Summary: Genrou wants nothing more than to be an associate in the law firm he works at. Well, almost... After watching the owner, Houjun, for so long, Genrou can't believe his luck when he befriends him. But after a few sakes, he always winds up saying too much...


A u t h o r ' s N o t e

So here I am again, being dumb by starting another chapter story. WHY do I do this to poor readers? Oh well… I have every intention on finishing this one.

Really, I do.

I PROMISE.

The good thing? It's summer and this is only going to be about 7 chapters long. So yay. I hope I finish it.

Aheh.

Yeah. Anyway. Reviews are lovely but so are oranges.

L E T ' S G O

C h a p t e r 1

A light breeze tousled his hair and he could smell a faint odor of pineapples and sugar cane. The sun beat down on his head and burned his skin to a crisp, warm tomato stain. If he opened his eyes, he would find hills and mountains of exotic trees and beaches and palms and natives dancing around him as he hiked up the trail.

Or at least he would if he weren't on a treadmill in the small workout facility next to the law firm he worked at. And outside the building there were people rushing by whose last thoughts were a palm tree and a ring of flowers. So there he was, stuck in a dismally lit room with a dismally boring worker who had a dismally dull job making sure that people didn't change the channel that was always stuck on a random game show with some man who screamed, "LET'S GOO!" five times every minute.

So instead he was here. Instead, his legs were burning and sweat dripped down his forehead, matting his hair to his skin. And rather than tomato stained skin, his once golden tan was becoming increasingly sallow. He supposed it came from having an office job where the only light came from the flickering panels above his cubicle. He contemplated quitting every now and then. He was, after all, better than the other lawyers in the firm he worked at. And he would leave; he would leave it and spit on the insignificant peons who weren't anywhere near as competent, intelligent, or collected as him. He would leave the job that he hated if not for one reason. If not for that one reason that worked in the big office on the corner with the two secretaries and the three underlings (one of whom Genrou himself worked for). If not for that amazing specimen who, above everyone including Genrou himself, was an amazing specimen of all amazing specimen that Genrou had ever seen.

It would have been quite difficult for Genrou to admit that this man was as or, dare he say it, more competent, intelligent, or collected as him if not for the fact that it was completely true.

So as the man on the television screamed, "LET'S GOO!" again for the fourth time that minute, Genrou slumped on his treadmill and stared blankly at the screen, convincing himself again that he did have a reason to stay at his job. The glass entrance door whooshed quietly, barely recognizable over the inane chatter coming from the game show. Genrou didn't notice a namesake of the firm walk in with a towel slung over his shoulder. The more expensive gym down the block had just closed for renovation, however Genrou was the only person in the room aside from "LET'S GOO!" and the sleepy desk clerk.

"Oh, Ri-sama!" The desk clerk sprang to life and shoved the remote into Houjun's hands, "Please, please make yourself comfortable."

Houjun looked at the remote in his hands and then up at the television. A wheel spun. "Oh, uh… thank you."

"No, thank _you!_" He bowed low on the ground and Houjun stepped past him.

Amongst all the commotion, Genrou was lost. The only noticeable thing about him was the whirring treadmill. He'd actually never met Houjun, only seen him in a passing or heard his coworkers mention him in casual, "Houjun just forced this stupid case onto ME…" conversation. But oh, had Genrou seen him. And he'd watch Houjun every morning when he came in, got his coffee and reports, made casual conversation with Koutoku and Shunkaku, and went into his office and locked the door. And he'd peer over his cubicle wall and look through the glass door at Houjun as he talked on the phone or shook hands with clients or ate his lunch or breathed or…

So imagine Genrou's surprise when he heard a senior partner's name. Imagine how utterly embarrassed he was at having Houjun first realize his existence when he was on a treadmill. A fuckin' treadmill for God's sake.

Genrou stumbled and slipped off the machine. The machine whirred to a stop and he looked up, bewildered and flustered, at the desk clerk. Genrou froze in place as he finally realized who he was in the room with. He froze as he saw, standing before him in perfect dry purity, the man he watched every day for five months, the only man he knew to be as - or more - perfect than himself – Houjun. He gulped and produced a dry sound as he tried to talk, "H-hey…"

"Pardon me?"

"N-nothing."

Houjun raised an eyebrow and walked toward the weights on the other side of the room. Genrou rushed to the desk clerk and shook him, whispering hoarsely, "Why didn't you TELL me he was a member here, you asshole!"

"It is not company policy to discuss the memberships of other – "

"Don't give me that speech! I was on a damn treadmill and he…" Genrou stopped and released the dizzy clerk. He straightened and tugged down his shirt, pulling it free from the sticky sweat. "It's ok. I'm good. I can work with this." He glanced at the machines again and balked. "Maybe."

Genrou's eyes darted around the room and settled on a weight system next to Houjun. Now, Genrou was never big on weights. He'd always been a speed guy – in high school and college he was the star track athlete. He was the sole guy running on the treadmills at the gyms while all his friends gravitated toward the weight systems and the more "manly" looking machines. So when the thought of having to lift weights to impress his boss crossed his mind, Genrou was just a bit hesitant. The only time he even handled weights was when he went jogging. "Shit." He muttered underneath his breath as he walked over next to Houjun.

"So, uh… come here often?" That was brilliant. Absolutely marvelous. Genrou came to this gym nearly every day simply because no one came here. He was somewhat convinced that he was the sole reason the place was still afloat.

Houjun turned his gaze from the weight rack to Genrou's eyes. "Yes, actually."

Hot damn, he thought – deep down – and he hoped he didn't show that thought on his face. "Oh. Uh… I don't ever see you here."

"Different schedule, I suppose."

"Ah."

And that, it seemed, was that. Genrou stood there in awkward silence as Houjun gathered weights and walked away from him to sit on a bench. The game show in the background cheered and the announcer bellowed, "GOO! CONGRAAATULATIONS!" and Genrou had to sigh at the irony and sheer mockery of the situation.

Easing himself onto the bench of the nearest weight machine – which he unfortunately forgot to check for weight, which was currently set at two hundred pounds – he leaned back and grasped the handles. "So, I think I've seen you before."

"I own the law firm next door."

"Oh, yeah, that would explain it." Genrou pulled at the weights in vain, straining and grunting while still trying to maintain his composure. They lifted an inch and then slammed back down. "Fucking STUPID piece of – "

"Pardon me?"

"Nothing, nothing! So, uh… I work there." That was incredibly smooth.

"Do you? Mailroom? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

No, actually. On your floor. Three cubicles from your door. "Well, no. I'm a lawyer."

"Oh. That was rude of me, I apologize." He placed his weights down onto the floor and stood. Genrou lowered his arms, giving up on the two hundred pounds, and turned his head to watch the desk clerk come over to the two.

"You might wanna lower the weight on those. Two hundred, that's a bit much for a tiny guy like you." The clerk elbowed Genrou and switched the weights. "Fifty pounds, there ya go. Should do the trick."

"Tiny? Who the hell do you think… TINY?" Genrou stood and pushed the clerk aside, walking behind the machine and switching the weights to two hundred and fifty. "I'll show YOU tiny…" As he sat back down, Houjun covered his mouth, trying to hide his laughter. The clerk stared at the red head and turned toward Houjun.

"Bet you could press two hundred, huh?" Houjun looked towards the clerk and blinked.

"Well, no. I'm actually really bad at all of this. I just need a break from being in that building all day." He sighed and looked to Genrou, who was grunting under the weight and making absolutely no progress. He almost smiled at him, but stopped himself before he embarrassed him further. "It gets repetitive after awhile. A change of scenery, you know? That's all I'm asking for." He pointed to the treadmills, "That's more my speed, you know."

"Really?" Abandoning the weights, Genrou stood and posed, unknowingly synchronizing his movements to the bodybuilder on the game show behind him. "I was my college's top runner in college."

"Hey, that's pretty good, you know."

"I know."

The two walked towards the other machinery, leaving desk clerk to clean up the weights. "Hey, read the sign – pick up all weights!"

"Oh, right…" Houjun stopped and turned.

"Not you, Ri-sama. You!" Genrou paused and looked to him, "Yes, you. Clean it up."

"Heey now…"

"It's not Ri-sama's job to clean up after himself!"

Houjun and Genrou exchanged glances and smiled to the clerk, "Alright." They walked to the weights, picked them up, and deposited them into the clerk's unwaiting arms. Smiling, they turned and walked out of the building.

Behind them, the clerk struggled over the weight of the blocks of iron before collapsing in a heap on the floor. "Ri-sama! Ri-sama, waait!"

In the background, a man screamed, "LET'S GOO!"

--

"So you really don't know who I am?" Eerie music played above their heads to the dragons and the waterlilies on the walls. Men in suits and women in skirts lined up to load their plates with sesame chicken and bits of broccoli while they complained about their long hours and not having time to eat. A clock on the wall chimed 5:30, and across the street the firm was ticking along slowly as its inherent owner and one of its prosecutors ate.

"I'm afraid I don't. We have many lawyers, I can't keep track of all of them, you know."

"Well I know who you are." Genrou leaned back and dropped his chopsticks on his plate, "Ri Houjun. Co-owner of Saihitei, Houjun, and associates. Fountain of wisdom. Owns a corner office." He pointed in Houjun's face, most likely a result of the fountain of sake coursing through his body, "Has… how many floors is that, now?"

"Four."

"Four FUCKIN' floors of bastard lawyers. Now that, my man, is an accomplishment. A big fuckin' accomplishment."

"Well… thank you." Houjun looked down gingerly at his own cup of sake. Saihitei was the one who took everyone out for sake after work. Houjun never did – he stayed in the office and worked until eight or nine every night. He faced three more hours of torture tonight, so he pushed his cup aside. Genrou gestured to the sake and, without waiting for reply, gulped it down. "So, what did you say your name was?"

"Genrou."

"Ah. Genrou-san. What did you say you did for us again – "

"Y'know…" Houjun leaned back as the redhead before him leaned over the table, his hands slamming into Houjun's hapless food. The blue haired man glanced to the side at the other people in suits. Most of them wouldn't be drinking for another half hour. He sighed. "You're really fuckin' pretty."

"Eh?" He could feel the stares of the suits on them. He could feel the laughter welling up in the women and the disgust and empathy welling up in the men. He could feel their emotions bubble over and wash him in the entire embarrassment he was feeling and burn him to the core. This certainly was saying something since his whole life was filled with basket cases. He'd just never had to deal with one of them attacking him without giving him money for it. "Oh, well… uhm… thank you."

"Oh no problem, Houjun." Genrou patted his boss's face with a duck sauce smothered hand. "My pleasure." He sat back and went back to eating his dinner. Houjun sat in disbelief, not daring to chance a look at the rest of the restaurant. "Hey! Let's go karaoke!"

"Nooo, I think we ought to do that some other time."

"Some other time? Fuck yeah, that'll work. Hey, what time is it?"

"Time to get back to work."

"Aww come on…"

Houjun stood and wiped his face calmly before lifting the drunken red head from his seat. "I think you need to go back to the office and sleep for a little while."

"Come ON, man."

"I'm serious, you know. It'll do you some good."

"Hey, now – "

"Just," Houjun stood him up and leaned him against the wall. Genrou stopped staggering and looked up at him. For a split second, the piercing look made him sober up. "trust me on this, alright?"

"Eh… alright…"

The two walked haphazardly back to the firm. Houjun sighed as Genrou burst into 'You Are So Beautiful,' and wished to God that Saihitei was the only one still in the office.

--

He opened his eyes to the blue glow of his computer screen. The lights in the office were off, save for the yellow cast coming from the corner office. Sitting up slowly, Genrou looked around. He still felt very much intoxicated, but a little more level headed. "Did I just call Houjun… pretty…?" Shaking his head quickly, he convinced himself against it. There was no way he could do that. Granted he always said a bit more than he should when he was drunk, but never something so incriminating as that. Assuring himself that he had kept his mouth free of any harmful comments, he stood and walked to Houjun's office.

Inside, the lawyer had his head resting peacefully on his desk. Beneath his face were pages upon pages of papers documenting various cases and legal information. Houjun muttered something in his sleep and turned his head. Smiling, Genrou poked his head. His boss sat up slowly, a page sticking to his face, and looked around. "Eh?"

"I think you fell asleep."

"Oh!" Peeling the paper off, Houjun checked his watch, "Well, it _is_ eleven, you know."

"ELEVEN? You have to be fucking kidding me."

"No, I'm not." He stood and brushed his suit pants, "I think I should go home and sleep, you know."

"Yeeaaah, me too." Genrou paused and looked his boss in the eye, trying his best to keep a serious face despite the fact that everything was spinning in circles, "Did I say anything stupid?"

Houjun froze and looked at his desk. Genrou swore under his breath. There, he'd done it. He'd ruined any chance he had of advancing in the firm. Any chance of anyone taking him seriously. Any chance of Houjun… though that was a long shot in the first place.

"… no, not really." Gathering his papers, he shoved them into his briefcase and began turning off his lights. "But you might want to watch where you put your hands next time, you know?"

As Houjun walked past him, Genrou stood riveted to his spot. His… hands? Did… he… do… wait… "What?"

"Well, for starters, you could not put them on my face, you know."

He heard the elevator ding behind him. Houjun shouted out to him from the box, "Let's go!" Slowly, Genrou moved to the doors. His head felt muddled and bewildered. He remembered the pretty thing – no, wait, that didn't happen – but not… hands. On his face? He didn't know whether that or a pretty comment was worse.

Stepping in next to Houjun, he slumped against the back wall. The two stood in silence until the elevator dinged and opened to the lobby.

"I think you're pretty too, you know." Houjun stepped off the elevator and the doors slid shut behind him, leaving Genrou standing in the stationary box, staring at the doors as they quietly slid open and shut, soft chimes resounding in his ears.

"Well… shit."

--

He could have shoved his foot into his mouth. He could have used some duct tape or something productive that would have kept his lips from opening and sound from spitting out.

But he was not that flexible and he did not have duct tape on hand. So instead, he walked into work that day with his briefcase and a mind full of avoidance and cases. Houjun had a habit of retreating into his work whenever he didn't want to think about anything else, and he had a feeling that today he would be pulling another all nighter.

As he passed a cubicle that was part of his daily routine of getting to his office, he very carefully avoided even looking at its inhabitant. He'd never even noticed the redhead before last night, and then he'd noticed him a little bit too much for his liking.

And as he was just about past the box and got closer and closer to his office, he had to stop in his tracks.

"Houjun! Ri Houjun! Get over here right now, damnit. I need to speak to you."

He stopped and slowly turned his head to look over his shoulder. Standing there behind him was his biggest fear. Standing there behind him was the client that nobody wanted and he had to take on because of all the money she was paying and because Saihitei wouldn't do it. Standing there behind him was Haku Kaen.

"Oh, Haku-san. Ah… what a… pleasant surprise." He turned to face her. Next to him, he could hear Genrou breathing calmly as he typed. Suddenly, a drunken Genrou didn't seem so bad.

"Yeah I'm sure it is." She walked up to him and stopped five inches from his face. "You were supposed to meet me for dinner last night to talk about my divorce. And did you? No. No you did not." Faking a sob, she covered her face, "And now he's going to get the dog. Our dog! The one that I fed once a week and never noticed until he said he wanted it! That dog! I want it, damnit. He's not going to get any happiness out of this. No thank you."

"Haku-san, why don't we take this into my office, you know."

"Fine, fine." Kaen walked past him and towards his door. Houjun glanced towards Genrou for a split second and caught his eye. His heart raced and he looked away, running after his client.

"I'll show him! This is what he gets for cheating on Haku Kaen with a man! Gi Ayuru, I'm going to make you wish you were castrated! Say, that's not a bad idea. Houjun, is there any way we can – "

"No. No there is not."

"But I – "

"No." The door closed behind him. Genrou stood up, along with half of the office, and watched Kaen talk animatedly to the senior partner. The other lawyers all breathed a sigh of relief that none of them were stuck with her, and quietly went back to work. Genrou stayed standing, watching Houjun through the glass door. He thought he saw Houjun glance at him every few seconds, but he put the thought in the back of his mind and sat back down.

--

"I couldn't have done it without you, Genrou-san." Ryuuen walked outside of the courtroom. Ryuuen was a popular actor, famous for his feminine features and questionable sexual orientation. He'd just walked out of a lawsuit against his former agent for withholding information – a lawsuit he'd, thanks to Genrou, just won.

"Well, yeah. That's true."

Ryuuen laughed, "I love your honesty!" He clasped the redhead's hands and smiled, "I'll definitely refer any friends to you. Definitely."

"How lucky for me."

"Yes, I'd say so." The two greeted reporters and flashbulbs and Genrou went into his prepared victory speech. Inside, he was jumping for joy. Saihitei had told him that if he won this case, he'd be promoted to an associate. No more cubicle, no more fluorescent lighting, and a secretary of his very own.

It was all rather exciting.

--

"Congratulations!" Poppers went off around him and Saihitei opened the champagne bottle, pouring a glass for the two and passing the bottle off to some random person standing near him. "You've earned it, Genrou."

"Thank you, sir." Around him, people patted his back, shook his hand, and generally pretended to be very happy for him while secretly loathing him. Success felt very good to Genrou, and he felt he could get used to it. Especially that loathing part – that was very nice. Made him feel important.

"I didn't think you'd do it."

"Say, fuck you, Taka."

"Hey, I'm just saying. I really doubted you. Really, I did."

"Oh, he's just joking." Taka's wife elbowed him in the sides, "Aren't you, Taka?"

"Yes, Miaka…"

Genrou smiled and looked around. He liked all of the votes of confidence, or lack of votes in some cases, but the one person he wanted to gloat to wasn't anywhere to be found. He knew he had to be here. He was always here – staying late, sleeping on or under his desk, working on the cases no one else wanted even though he was a co-owner.

And as he walked around the lobby, he gravitated towards the elevator. And as he ascended, he figured no one would notice his absence – no one ever did when the champagne and sake were plentiful. And as he stepped onto the top floor and made his way toward the corner office, he wondered why he was doing this and how he got here.

Behind a slightly closed door, Houjun was busy reviewing a case. He sighed and put his head down, wanting desperately to sleep and desperately to be downstairs. But he couldn't – he was doing his best to avoid thinking about certain events and certain words he'd said and certain people, but he couldn't manage to make himself stop.

"Hey, you're workin' pretty hard. Dude, you gonna congratulate me or what?" Genrou pointed to the wall on his right, "I'm gonna be right next to you. You outta at least say 'good job,' or somethin'."

Houjun's head shot up and he found himself looking into the almond shaped eyes before him. He swore to himself and smiled, "Oh, right… congratulations, you know."

"'Bout damn time. Hey, you look pretty fuckin' tired."

"I… am, actually."

"I got an idea." Genrou took a seat across from him and leaned forward, "That party is pretty fuckin' dead. How about gettin' outta here and headin' somewhere else."

"Actually, I think I'd rather…" Houjun stopped and looked at the man before him. He noticed his heart racing and how muddled his head felt whenever he looked at him, and looked down quickly. Even without looking at him, he could still hear his breath and feel his presence in the room. Houjun wondered how he'd never noticed him before.

"Yeah?"

"… you know, that sounds look a good idea." Houjun stood and grabbed his coat, "Sake sounds pretty good, you know."

"Fuck yeah. I know this great place…"

--

Two working men stumbling around the street singing Elton John songs was in no way out of the ordinary. If they had arms slung around each other's shoulders and bottles of sake in the other hands, it was not strange. In fact, it was a fairly ordinary occurrence.

So no one thought it was strange when Houjun and Genrou stumbled around, screaming that they wanted love, just a different kind. And no one frowned when they kept drinking despite their obvious intoxication. Sure, a few random girls giggled because the two men were rather attractive and did look very silly, but that was about the extent of the attention they got.

"Hey, Houjun?"

"Hey, Genrou."

"Hey, you remember that one time…"

"Yeah, and we stayed together roaming even after everyone came back."

"And, sometimes, it was really fuckin' cold."

"And I told you I loved you, you know."

"Yeah, and then I fell asleep!"

"Yeah…"

They stopped walking and looked at each other. Genrou swore Houjun couldn't have had the same shiver that had just gone up his own spine. Houjun swore Genrou didn't feel the incredible déjà vu. They both shook their heads and kept walking.

"Damn, my roommate is gonna be really fuckin' pissed that I went out and got… HA pissed without him!" The redhead stopped in the street and fell over, laughing at his repetition, "I just said pissed twice! There, I just said it again!"

"You can come over to my place, you know."

"Hey, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Dude!" Genrou stood shakily and grabbed hold of Houjun's arm, "Fuck yeah. One condition that I have. Sorry, but I have to have it."

"What it is?"

Genrou stopped in his tracks and pulled Houjun closer, looking the taller man in the eye, "We gotta fuck."

"What!" Even drunk, Houjun found the statement a bit… off.

"Well we used to!"

"We did not! I didn't even know you before yesterday, you know!"

"Hey… that's true. Well, ok. We don't have to. I was just askin'. For old times' sake. Don't get your panties in a bunch."

Houjun stood, watching the younger man walk around in circles, singing. Something about that conversation didn't seem that odd, actually. Something about it seemed strangely… comfortable. He shook his head and ran to catch up with him, "You can sleep in the guest room, you know."

"Yeah, you think that. You go ahead and think that."


End file.
